There’s nothing timely about this in the slightest, but given that the tenor of the times is so rife with the unthinkable (Trump, gun violence, racism, police brutality, terrorism, global unrest, Brexit fallout, “Pokemon Go!,” etc.), maybe being out of step with what’s timely is perfectly okay.
Moreover, when I do speak my mind about current events (like, say, the very real possibility of an impending Trump administration), I tend to get a bit frothy at the mouth. I’ve been informed by some that making declarative statements on, say, Facebook about my zero tolerance for Trump supporters might rub some people the wrong way. Too bad. Put simply, if you even tacitly support the perspectives and “policies” (such as they are) that Trump’s espousing, I don’t want to spend any time with you. You wouldn’t stay friends with a David Duke supporter, would you? It’s pretty much the same thing. Think about it, and vote wisely.
See? I’ve digressed with bug-eyed fervor already.
Anyway, to get back to that which isn’t even remotely timely, I stumbled upon the pair of images below on Flickr, courtesy of one Anthony Rau, in a folder titled “Greenwich Village and Downtown NYC.” I’ve spoken about the place several times here before (notably here, here, here, here, here, here and most recently here), but this is, of course, the intimately appointed interior of Subterranean Records on Cornelia Street.
I’ve said it before that stepping down into Subterranean felt like entering a chapel. It was cramped and dank and a bit musty, but I loved it.
It’s gone now, of course … seemingly replaced by nothing.